4. #3
Before I could brace myself, I felt two massive, calloused hands grab my waist. DeMarcus didn't check if I was ready for him. He just lined up the blunt, impossibly wide head of his monster cock against my leaking pussy and shoved himself inside me with a single thrust.
I screamed, but the sound was all but muffled by Jackson's meat in my mouth.
DeMarcus seemed to be thicker than Tyrell. His cock felt like a battering ram. He stretched my bruised walls past the point of burning, pushing the limits of my anatomy. He bottomed out hard, driving Tyrell’s load even deeper into me.
"Jesus, D," Jackson laughed, feeling the impact vibrate through my jaw. "You're gonna split this little bitch in half."
"She can take it," D grunted.
He didn't have Tyrell's frantic speed. His rhythm was slow, deep, and cruelly punishing. He pulled almost completely out, the head of his cock dragging against my raw flesh and then drove himself back in with terrifying force. Like he was tenderizing meat. Like he was destroying me.
The pain was intense, but it was inextricably tangled with a dark pleasure. The sheer size of him, his clear contempt for me, the fact that I was trapped between two massive men—I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
Jackson, sensing I was reaching breaking point, decided to escalate.
"Open your throat, bitch," he hissed, grabbing my hair with both hands.
He started piston-fucking my mouth, slamming his cock down my throat, cutting off my air completely. My eyes watered, tears streaming down my face. I was choking, gagging, fighting a desperate, panicked battle for oxygen while DeMarcus pounded my pussy from behind.
I was suffocating on dark meat.
And that thought pushed me over the edge. My vision swam with dark spots. Panic fused with a desperate need to come.
"Oh god," I tried to moan, but it came out as a wet, desperate gurgle around Jackson's shaft.
And then a train derailed deep down in my cunt. My spine arched. My pussy spasmed over and over again. My thighs shook uncontrollably, my toes curling against the wooden deck.
"Shit, this bitch comes hard,” DeMarcus grunted. "And man, this cunt is tight."
“She won’t be for long." Jackson tried to laugh but he was out of breath as my choking throat dragged him to the edge.
I was sobbing openly, tears and drool streaming down my face, completely lost in the white-hot light of my orgasm. I didn't shit about the pain anymore. I loved every ounce of my humiliation. I was their fucktoy, there for them to use.
DeMarcus drove himself in to the hilt and erupted against my cervix.
Just like Tyrell before him, he pumped pulse after pulse of cum into me.
They had so much cum. It was staggering.
It felt like a hot, thick syrup flooding me and I had already been overstuffed.
His load mixed with Tyrell's. I imagined a potent, swirling cocktail of raw virility deep inside my gut.
And again I wondered how much cum my pussy could take.
That was when Jackson twisted his grip on my hair and rammed his cock as deep into my throat as he could and let go.
A thick, scalding hot jet of semen hit my tonsils.
I choked, gagging violently, but he held my head in place, spraying his load across the back of my throat, painting my mouth with his bitter, salty seed.
I swallowed greedily, taking every single scalding drop, gulping down his heavy, bitter cum as fast as he could pump it into me, reveling in the filthy mess they were making of me while DeMarcus finished emptying his balls into my cunt.
When Jackson finally pulled his softening cock out of my mouth, I collapsed against the railing, gasping desperately for air. A thick string of his cum dangled from my bruised lips.
DeMarcus withdrew from behind, leaving my hole gaping and slick. I felt something stir inside me and only moments later, a massive, heavy mixture of cum spilled out of me, running down both of my thighs and splattering onto the deck in a thick, white puddle.
I slid down the glass, my legs finally giving out completely. I hit the wooden deck, landing on my knees, my chest heaving, my face smeared with tears, makeup, and Jackson's cum.
I knelt there, shivering in the tropical heat, surrounded by three massive black athletes, peering down at me. I was dripping, bruised, and completely emptied out. And I was still full of cum.
"Damn," DeMarcus said, looking down at the mess they had made of me. He took a swig of his beer. "Mr. Davies really hooked us up."
"She's a good little slut," Jackson agreed, pulling up his board shorts. He looked down at me. "Clean yourself up, cheer slut. We got forty-seven hours left."
The marathon had only just begun. I was officially, entirely, their free-use property. Their cheer slut. And as I knelt there in a puddle of their cum, a sick, dark thrill ignited somewhere deep inside my dog-tired body. I was going to survive. I was going to wear these fuckers out.
“Is that it?” I asked. “Is that all you’ve got? I was only just getting started, boys.”